


entomophobia

by Larryslovewins



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 17 year old harry, Abused Harry, Guns, M/M, actually just one, idk - Freeform, larry - Freeform, larry stylinson - Freeform, teenager Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-16 00:09:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19306654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larryslovewins/pseuds/Larryslovewins
Summary: Harry lives in an abusive family and works two jobs to pay the rent. One day he gets fired from the bakery and his mother’s boyfriend is furious about it. The man hands him a gun and sends him outside. He either comes back with money or doesn’t at all. Things don’t go as planned.OrHarry is a 17 year old guy who has sunk so low that he’s ready to point a gun at a stranger just for cash, but his phobia of bugs kinda ruins it for him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> respect for Anne so in this story his mother is named Grace. also taking it slow so you can really understand his situation, promise I’ll get to the plot!!

Harry jammed the key in the old, rusty lock for a bit, pressing his lips together in frustration until he heard a small click, the front door finally unlocked and opened with a quiet squeak. He stepped inside the rather sad apartment he spent most of the nights in and kicked the door shut after himself, feeling heavy weight on his chest as soon as he did so. It simply wasn’t a nice place to be at. It was toxic, so toxic.

He raised an eyebrow at the smell that hit him in the face after a moment, shaking his head weakly once he quickly realized it was alcohol. He had a small hope that it was his mother's boyfriend, Jim, drinking, but the hope was crushed in no time as he turned the lights on. There she was, on the couch, completely wasted after relapsing for the third time that month. She always promised it would stop and it never did. She couldn't even last longer than a week. Of course he had tried sending her to rehab, but professionals were pretty expensive and free services always gave up on her. She was just hopeless.

He walked to the kitchen, keeping his shoes on, which were so small and uncomfortable on his feet, not talking about the fact that they were falling apart and worn up. The floor of the apartment wasn’t in a better state either, it was a mess. There were dirty clothes, bloody rags, empty bottles, needles and a bunch of other crap that nearly made the teen gag. He cleaned every now and then, but it didn't matter. By the next day it would look like someone dumped a trash bag or two out anyways. He opened the secondhand fridge that was barely working at that point, stuffing it with canned soup he'd bought on the way home from work. He hated it, he really couldn't stand the taste or texture, but that's all he could afford. It was cheap and didn't expire fast. With his job at a small bakery and another one at an ice cream stand, he didn't make much cash sadly. Literally just enough for rent and food.

He could hear his mother have a pity moment, but he just stayed silent as she whimpered about how sick she felt and how no one loved her. He glanced at the woman as she sobbed into the stained couch, a bit disgusted and somewhat mad at her. He was the unloved one. He was the one who should be spending days crying, but there he was, working two jobs to keep a roof above their heads. What was she doing? Drinking and getting into trouble. Sweet.

"Alright, mum. Let's get you to bed," he muttered under his breath when he’d gotten the cans of soup into the fridge, carefully closing it. The door was loose and close to falling off due to Jim’s door slamming habit, Harry knew they’d need a new one eventually. He folded up his cloth bag and set it on the counter before he waked over to her, gently grabbing her arm and helping her sit up while she somewhat protested for a moment. She continued to cry as they made their way down the hallway and into the only bedroom, leaning against Harry the whole time. He laid her down on the mattress and tuck her in a bit, a frown appearing slowly as he pushed the hair out of her face. He didn't know why he didn't just leave her. His life would be much easier on the streets, or in an orphanage. He'd definitely be in one if anyone knew about the situation at his home, but over the years he'd learned to pretend he was happy and that everything was okay. It really wasn’t difficult when no one actually cared.

He slowly left the room and removed the beanie on top of his head before he ran a hand through his dirty curls, walking back to the couch. He covered it with a sheet since it was simply nasty before he sat down, closing his eyes for a moment. Around this time he'd usually turn the TV on and watch one of the two channels it would play- news or music, but a few weeks ago Jim had smashed it during an argument, leaving him with nothing to distract him from the reality.

Harry's eyes opened as he heard screaming from the other room, reaching up to hold his head in his hands. He'd been through this so many times, but he could never get used to the seizures Grace had after drinking. He began to pull at his hair a bit, just wishing this would end for once.

He wondered how his sister was doing. He hadn't seen her in years. She used to live with them. Actually, they used to be such a perfect little family. Then, when he was about four, Grace found new friends, met Jim. Everything went downhill from there. As she slowly turned into the alcoholic she is now, their biological father left and took Gemma with him. They'd seen each other a few times after that, but eventually they stopped coming over. He wondered why didn't he also take him away.

With those thoughts and the exhaustion from working for seven hours after school, he dozed off into deep sleep on the sofa. That’s where he usually slept, unless Jim felt like being a dick and making him sleep in the bathroom, or even kicking him out for the night. It really wasn’t that uncommon. It all might seem cruel and heartless, but Harry was so used to it. 

-

Harry’s peaceful sleep was interrupted by the alarm going off on his phone. A beautiful Nokia, he couldn’t even dream of having a smartphone. 

He turned it off with a grumpy whine, slowly sitting up. The teen tiptoed carefully around the house, just getting ready for school although he’d much rather sleep.

At first he went to the bathroom and swiftly washed up, washing his hair and face with some soap in the sink. It may sound ridiculous, but when you’re broke and live with two alcoholics that don’t care about their appearance, there simply won’t be any shampoo in the house. When he was done and had dried off, he grabbed his deodorant that he hid well behind the kitchen counter away from Jim, as the man loved destroying and getting rid of his stuff just for the laughs, and spayed it on generously. Honestly he doubted anyone even suspected his situation at home, that’s how good he hid it. He was visibly broke, but he didn’t look abused for sure.

When Harry was done in the bathroom he headed back out to the living room, taking out some clothes from the cabinet TV stand. Ironically, no TV on top of it. That was the only place in the house that was really his. He didn’t have a bed, a desk, a wardrobe, but the cabinet was his only to use. He slipped into some clothes, folding up the ones he’d just removed and setting them into the cabinet. He went to a laundromat twice a month, so he wasn’t exactly walking around dirty. 

Harry was out of the building before his mother and her boyfriend even woke up, which was usually around eight. Considering that his school was some distance away and he was walking, he didn’t leave too early.

As he made it to school, he reached up and fixed the beanie he always had on. Oh, how many arguments he’d had with teachers because of it. They absolutely couldn’t stand his hat, but after fighting for so long, they just gave up. He refused to remove it, it was on his head most of the day. Harry walked down the hall and to his first period of the day, nibbling on his bottom lip. 

His day at school was okay, as always. To summarize it: he went to each class, took all notes in the same notebook, eavesdropped in awe as some guys talked about some memes on the internet, ignored the same guys making fun of him in line at lunch when he pulled out his phone to check the time, sat alone at said lunch and then he skipped his last period to make it to his shift in the bakery.

Even after skipping the last class he had to jog to the bakery to make it on time, making it there kinda sweaty and tired. He was breathing softly as he greeted Emily behind the counter, whose shift he was taking over. He walked to the back and set his bag down, grabbing a custom made apron just for him and putting it over his head. He tied it behind himself and looked up as Betty, the owner, peeked out of her room. “Oh Harry, you’re here, how lovely. I need you to come to my office..”.

The guy raised a brow and slowly followed, a bit confused. She’d never called him into the office. She’d only called in people who were getting fired. “Hey, what do you need me for?” he asked as he stepped in after her, closing the door slowly but keeping his fingers wrapped around the handle gently.

“Darling, how do I say this..”

Harry chuckled. No way. “Betty, no. You can’t be thinking of firing me..” a small frown appeared on his face as he looked at her. 

“Honey, I’ve been looking at the numbers and I need to get rid of someone and-“

“and you decide to get rid of me? Betty, I’m your best worker! We both know it! Daniel comes whenever he wants! I’ve covered like seven of his shifts! And sorry but Emily fucking sucks at baking, she always messes up the croissants!” he barked out of frustration, he couldn’t lose his job. Jim would tear him apart if he wouldn’t have the money for rent. He was panicking.

Betty kept talking. It was a long speech, but he heard just a few words: “fuck you, get lost”. He could already feel Jim’s fist in his face.


	2. Chapter 2

It all happened so fast.

 

His hand was trembling as he stood in front of the innocent stranger, a fully loaded gun pointing at him. He was full of fear, it was obvious. And so was Harry. He didn’t want to harm anyone, not at all. He just needed money. 

 

“I.. I said, give me your fucking wallet,” he was struggling to not stutter like crazy. He might’ve been even more scared than the guy in front of him. Pathetic.

 

Just twelve hours ago he had never even held a real gun in his own hands.

_“You were what? What was that?” Jim spat, standing in front of Harry, who was sat on the ugly couch. His face was emotionless as he broke the news to his mother’s boyfriend. He’d lost a job. A job which brought most of the income in the messed up, broken family._

_“I was fired,” he repeated himself, staring at the ground, completely avoiding Jim’s stare. “You fucking piece of shit! Can’t do anything right,” the man was angry. Harry was scared to say the least._

_“I will find another job, I-I promise. I’m good at baking, I can sing. I’ll find something.” Harry was holding his tears back, breathing out shakily._

_“You can’t do shit, shut the fuck up. I’ve had your food, heard you sing. You’re talentless and useless.”_

_For some reason it hurt more than getting punched, kicked, pushed. What was the point then? What was he even going to do after graduation? He could as well off himself then and there if he was such a waste of space and air._

_“The only way your mouth could make cash is by sucking dick, get that in your head already. You don’t have a fucking talent. Yeah, your mother has told me about how you used to watch that singing contest show, how you begged to go on it. Forget it. You can’t do shit.”_

_Jim just wanted to hurt Harry, and it worked. It cut deep, pretty deep._

_Maybe that could be an option. Sucking dick. It’s not like it would make his life any worse at that point._

_God, what was he thinking about? No. He’d never._

_Jim screamed for a while more, it seemed like forever honestly. He shouted, reminding Harry that he was stupid and useless. There were slaps, there was some pushing around, but then.. then Jim rushed to the only bedroom in the apartment._

_Harry lifted his head up from where he’d been hiding it behind his skinny arms, wondering as to why did he suddenly run off. It wasn’t like Jim._

_He stared into the hallway until the man returned, his heart stopping as he saw what he was holding. A gun, an actual gun._

_Immediately Harry covered himself and curled up as if that would save him from any bullets. “No! P-Please! I will get the money!” Suddenly sucking dick didn’t seem that bad after all._

_“Yes, you fucking will. Stop being such a fucking pussy, I would’ve already shot you if I wanted to,” he heard the man say, his body trembling all over. Then the gun was thrown at him, landing on his lap._

_“I don’t care what you do, where you go, but you’re either returning with money, or you can shoot yourself in some alley and stop this fucking nonsense of a life.”_

 

“I-I literally have like.. two coupons and ten bucks, no more.” The stranger’s voice was a bit shaky, but it was barely noticeable, especially over a thick accent.

 

They were standing under a tall lamp post, the area around them almost pitch black. It was quite late in the evening, Louis had just finished a shift at a book store.

 

“Money is m-money. Give me your wallet already!” he was trying to sound tough and scary, but he just wasn’t one to raise his voice. He sounded more scared than the victim himself.

 

“Okay, okay,” the lad in front of him breathed shakily, raising one hand as the other reached in his pocket slowly. He pulled out the folded leather case, it seemed pretty thin. He probably wasn’t lying about the ten bucks. 

 

Louis finally had his life together. 

 

He had such a nice apartment, with a kitchen big enough to make a propel meal. He’d just started reading a new book, he was only halfway through. He didn’t even get to use that night cream he had bought, or that bath bomb. God, his cat. Who was going to feed his cat if he was going to be shot? 

 

He couldn’t stop thinking about his foster family. The kind people that took him in and restored his faith in humans. Who taught him that blood doesn’t equal family, that you can choose who to love and bond with. 

 

When did he last call Jay? 

 

Lottie never even returned his earphones. 

 

His mind was all over the place. It was almost like his life was flashing before his eyes.

 

Louis’ hand was slowly, carefully reaching out the wallet. His hand surprisingly wasn’t even shaking. Not much at least. His eyes were on the guy, but he couldn’t really see his face. He had a hoodie tugged over his head, the light above them casting a shadow over his face. He looked.. dirty, but there was no way he was a drug addict. His hands were a healthy shade of nude, he was standing firmly on his legs. He seemed sober, too. 

 

The stranger had almost stretched his arm out to hand over the wallet when there was a soft buzzing sound coming from god knows where. He didn’t even notice it at first actually, but Harry did. Harry noticed immediately. He used his free hand to wave the bug away. It stopped. The buzzing started again. He waved his hand with a bit more force. After another moment of silence, the buzzing suddenly go even louder, but just for Harry. 

 

When he realized the insect was stuck in his hoodie, he began to panic frantically then and there. He was waving both of his hands, the gun wasn’t even pointed at Louis anymore. 

 

Then, pain. Right in his left leg. 

 

Louis was smart. Well, he liked to think so. He didn’t exactly understand what was going on with the guy, but he saw that he was panicked, he wasn’t even focused on him anymore, so he used the moment. 

 

It’s kinda funny, his friends have made countless of jokes about that pocket knife in his wallet. They joked about how rape-y it seemed, how he always carried it around. They always made jokes when he paid at check out, saying that he was doing it wrong, he should be holding the knife and getting money, not giving it away. It was all so stupid, really. The jokes were just idiotic and annoying.

 

And now that knife was saving his life.

 

So as the gun owner was tugging at his hood and quickly shaking his head, Louis pulled it out. He stabbed his left leg, which was enough of a shock for Harry to drop the gun. 

 

Louis didn’t even think about it twice. He grabbed the gun, turned to face the edge of the bridge and threw it.

 

Splash.

 

Harry couldn’t care, he was in too much pain. He was already laying on the ground, sobbing as he held the area around the stab wound. There wasn’t too much blood, but only because the knife was still stuck in his leg. It would be gushing out if Louis has just pulled the knife out. 

 

The curly haired was now completely exposed. His hood had fallen off of his head when he was panicking as if  _his_ life had been on the line. He looked like a mess. A clean mess, somehow. The contours of his face were sharp, it was obvious he didn’t get enough food. He didn’t look starving, he just looked like.. a healthy crackhead, honestly. His eyes were red, puffy. Like he’d already been crying for hours before they even crossed paths. 

 

Why did Louis feel bad for him? It was self defense after all, but god, that’s sight made him feel uneasy. He was just a teenager after all. 

 

“Shit,” he breathed out, moving to drop to his knees. He should’ve just fled the scene, really, but he couldn’t. His heart was too big for him to do something so cruel. 

 

He couldn’t call the ambulance.. or could he? Wouldn’t he get in trouble? Shit, shit, shit. 

 

“Okay, uh,” he breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling as he thought of how could he help the guy. “Fuck.. can you stand up?” 

  
Harry could only shrug his weak shoulders, he wasn’t sure.

 

“Okay, okay.. All I need you to do is stand up, you can do it for me, right? Just stand up. I-.. I can carry you, I’ll just carry you..” 

 

“W-What? Where?” Louis could heat the pain in Harry’s voice.   
  


“To my place. It’s like, not that far away at all. Come on.” Yeah, yeah. It was stupid of him, he already knew it. Letting a guy that tried to mug him into his apartment was probably the last thing he should do, but he just couldn’t leave him alone. The guy looked so vulnerable, so small, even if he was so much taller than Louis.


End file.
